


shiny things

by Naddy



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous Time and Place, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Possibly Pre-Slash, Pre-Slash, Thievery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6139204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naddy/pseuds/Naddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t want to go to bed just yet, so he fishes a root beer out of the can drawer. Remy’s very careful about the noise, but apparently not careful enough to hide from heightened noses and ears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shiny things

**Author's Note:**

> I'm definitely going to get back to my other works, but I wrote this to stretch the ol' writing muscle and thought I may as well share.

There’s a spot on the back of the estate where the sway of the tree branches is enough to cover his motion and body heat as he climbs through the branches and over the stone wall and slides like a shadow across the well manicured lawn. Remy picks the lock on the back door because he knows he can and he’s absolutely drunk on the way the loot had felt heavy and perfect in his hand, in his pocket, before he tucked it away in his bolt-hole two towns over. He makes sure to lock it behind him and re-engage the alarm. 

He’s not stupid enough to carry it back with him. Not to the mansion where everyone’s still waiting for him to make a mistake. He’ll give Fence a call in the morning and see about moving it.

Remy moves silently through the house, leaving no sound, no track behind him on the carpeting. He seeks out the kitchen, lightly padding over tile and digs around in the fridge. To be honest, he’s not sure what he’s expecting. Certainly no alcohol where the kids can get at it. But the night’s been too good and he’s stalling. He doesn’t want to go to bed just yet, so he fishes a root beer out of the can drawer. Remy’s very careful about the noise, but apparently not careful enough to hide from heightened noses and ears. 

“Was it worth it?”

Remy jumps, dropping the can of root beer. Before he’s had a chance to recognize the voice, he’s palming and charging three cards, whirling to face Logan. The older mutant is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed and expression unreadable. 

“Pardon?” He asks, letting the charge melt away from the cards, slipping them back into a pocket.

“Whatever you stole tonight. Was it worth it?”

“Don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Cut the crap, kid.”

“Listen, there’s no need to be worried. There’s good people and bad people in the world. It’s the latter that seem to lose their gaudy baubles in the middle of the night.”

“Right. The good and the bad. That’s your call to make then? You decide who’s good and who’s bad and whose stuff gets to line your pocket with cash?”

“Don’t you go putting that evil on me.” His voice tenses and grows sharp, even as he keeps the volume low. “There’s plenty out there that benefit. Folks that wouldn’t be gettin’ any other help anyways. I always pay my dues.”

He can’t tell if its concern in Logan’s eyes, or anger. Remy’s not sure which one has his heart beating like a drum in a big band.

“Just watch yourself, gumbo. Whatever bed you make, you might not enjoy lyin’ in it,” Logan says, eyes never leaving his own.

“Maybe I’m trying to make a better bed,” Remy says cautiously, turning the cold can over in his hands. The chill brings him back to the here and now, reminds him where he is and who he’s talking to. It reminds him of something else too. Something dark and lonely. 

He yawns, fakely and obviously so, stashing the root beer back in the fridge.

“Bed does sound like a good idea though, cher. I think I’m going to rest just fine tonight.”

He doesn’t meet Logan’s eyes as he slips into the hallway. The thrill of a job well done is still there, but underscored by the feel of something unsure and uneasy.

**Author's Note:**

> my writing tumblr 


End file.
